Allure
by hharper
Summary: History always repeats itself, but the bad guys don't always have to win. Rated M for graphic violence. AH.
1. Chapter 1

**Five Years Ago**

******Prologue**

It was just after midnight when I left the bar, exiting through the back, letting the heavy door slam shut behind me. The blood on my clothes, in my hair, filled the muggy night with its metallic scent, and I swallowed heavily, trying not to puke. I stood still for a second, helpless, trying to stay calm, trying not to remember the nightmare that I'd left inside. But a clang from inside sent me into high gear, uprooting me from my spot and sending me down the service alley toward the street just as fast as my feet could carry me.

Images from the bar played in my head on repeat, tearing violent, noisy sobs from me in a way that was jarring and painful. I'd known he'd try to get to me. As soon as he'd received the order of protection, I knew he'd try. No threat of imprisonment could keep him away. I just didn't realize that this time I wasn't his target. This time he wasn't willing to let anyone stand in his way.

The image of her vacant blue eyes came unbidden, and I stumbled once, twice, before my legs gave out and I went down hard, skidding across the asphalt on my knees, tearing holes in my jeans. I doubled over and nearly suffocated while I puked all over myself, the smell of vomit doing nothing to cover the smell of her blood.

I'd killed her. Just as surely as if I'd pulled the trigger, I'd killed my own mother. What kind of monster was I?

The door to the bar banged open and panic lanced through me. Half of me wanted to run, to hope I was quiet, quick, and crafty enough to outpace him and escape with my life. The other half wanted to sit in the puddle of my vomit and wait, to let him do his worst. Murder, torture, rape – whatever I had coming to me was surely deserved. I had killed my own mother, after all.

I watched from my puddle torn, quiet, and suddenly detached, as he stepped outside, gun loose in his hand, hair shining brilliantly under the security light above the door. He looked almost like an angel standing there – young, powerful, illuminated from above – and it was nearly possible to shut off my mind, to forget the last seven months, to remember the attraction I felt when I first met him, to remember how flattered I felt when he first asked me out. But then he looked in my direction, squinting into the darkness. There was no mistaking the crazed look in his eyes as that of an angel.

"Bella," he crooned quietly, examining the shadows from his pool of light. "I know you're out there. Why don't you make this easy on both of us? I already took care of your mother. No one else has to get hurt." Her eyes came to me again, those blue eyes that were once sparkling with love, vibrancy, life, and I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from sobbing, from screaming aloud. The struggle only lasted a second before red hot anger flooded me.

I may have been responsible, but I hadn't pulled the trigger. _He _was the one that had done that to her. _He _was that had taken the life from her and caused her gaze to dull. _He _was the one that made me a killer. _He _was the one that had to pay. And if I was going down, I was going to do my best to bring him down too, even if it was likely to be the last thing I ever did.

"Where are you little bitch?" he growled out, his characteristic mood swings making themselves know. He whipped his gun up suddenly to shoot straight down the alley in the direction opposite me. In the echo of the blast I scooted quietly into the shadow of a dumpster, scuffing my knees on the asphalt and slicing my hand open on a piece of broken glass. I pressed the wound to my chest and listened for him again.

"You don't really think you can hide from me, do you?" He shot in the other direction, this time toward me, and I cringed at the sound. "I've managed to find you every other time you've hidden. I don't know why you think this will be any different."

I held my breath in silence that followed, swallowing reflexively to keep the nausea at bay. My eyes strained against the silence trying to pick up any breath, any footstep, any sound that might tell me where he was. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he finally spoke just a few feet from me. "Is Bella not feeling good?" His laugh was callous and cold. "What's that matter? That crater where your mom's head used to be didn't quite do it for you? Well let me tell you, it did it for me. Gives me a stiffy just thinking about blowing that broad's brains out."

Rage and recklessness overcame reason and I sprung in that second, catching him off guard and taking us both to the ground. He landed with an oomph underneath me but had us rolled over before I even considered my next move. He smacked my head against the pavement with a crack that made the world spin and straddled my waist, pinning me to the ground while I dry heaved on his boots.

"There you are, princess. I've been looking for you." His voice was smooth, quiet, nearly gentle. A cool finger caressed my face, drawing a line from my temple to my jaw in a way that sent unpleasant tingles up my spine. "What were you doing hiding out here?"

"Fuck you," I managed to grit out after a moment, head snapping to the side when the caress became a slap.

"I'm going to ask you again. What were you doing hiding out here?" His fingers pinched into my chin as he turned my face toward him.

"Fuck you, you bastard." His hands were around my neck in a second, the lack of oxygen instantly making the alleyway spin more violently.

"I don't even know why I try with you," he spat, thumbs pressing into my tender flesh while I thrashed and gagged. I clawed desperately at his hands, tearing at his skin, breaking my nails, but failing to loosen his grip. "All I've ever tried to do is take care of you. You're such an ungrateful cow. I'm done wasting my time."

My vision dimmed, darkening the night to an impenetrable black. My fingers weakened and my arms went limp, sliding away from the hands of the man who was going to take my life, from the hands of the man who murdered my mother. But my hand ever hit the ground. Instead hot, piercing pain shot through my arm.

I fumbled for the object that punctured my skin and fisted it instinctively, using the little strength I still possessed to swing at the warm body atop me. I heard a pop and pain exploded in my shoulder the same time the grip loosened around my neck. I opened my eyes to blackness and desperately took a breath, only to be suffocated by a wave of fluid filling my mouth. The taste of pennies made me gag and cough violently for a moment before the weight on top of me shifted, pressing the air out of me, pushing me into the ground hard. I wiggled weakly, struggling to free myself, but wasn't able to move an inch.

I drifted then, my mind from my body, and could nearly hear my mother's voice calling my name. I could picture her face smiling, her eyes sparkling, and the relief of being able to recall the imagine nearly made me smile myself. But I no longer seemed to have control of my expression and instead I stared blankly into the night.

I wondered briefly what Charlie would think about his daughter dying in an alley behind a bar before the world was lit brilliantly around me and I tumbled into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Present Day**

I pulled into the service station not far from Charlie's house late in the afternoon. I knew I shouldn't stop, it was already well past the time I'd told him to expect me, but I needed a moment to myself. It had been a good four years since I'd seen Charlie and I couldn't just go blasting in there directly after a marathon drive. I needed a second to get my shit together.

The day was a hot one, unseasonably so for Forks even in the summer, and escaping the air conditionless truck cab was a relief. Driving straight through had seemed like a good idea when I'd left my motel that morning, but the stiffness in my body and the fact that I'd sweated right through my tank top told of a different reality. I craved a cold shower in the worst way. Goosebumps rose across my arms when I stepped inside and a delighted shiver shuddered through me. The feeling of the cool air on my overheated skin felt amazing.

I glanced around the service station before beelining to the unisex bathroom in the back, but the cursory look wasn't really necessary. In typical Forks fashion, nothing had changed.

I hadn't been to the Shell station in six years, but could have closed my eyes and located a quart of 10W-30 or an overpriced box of Froot Loops with no trouble. But that was Forks. It seemed like no matter how much time went by, no matter how many things changed, Forks would always remain the same.

Saying the town was timeless would be the polite way to put it. Saying the residents were stubborn and stuck in their ways would probably be more accurate. But there was an appeal to the sameness, to the familiarity of Forks. It was something I'd thought I wanted once. Something I thought would bring me stability and comfort. But the familiarity that I'd counted on being comfortable and safe had ended up being my undoing. I hadn't been back for a month before I was over the knowing looks, the questions and good intentioned comments by near strangers, the sympathetic murmurings I'd met everywhere. I thought I'd feel safe being around people I knew, people who knew me. But instead I'd felt trapped, claustrophobic. So I'd left. I ran in the middle of the night with barely a word to Charlie and I'd not looked back since.

Until now.

I splashed cool water across my flushed face and the back of my neck, smoothing my tangled hair into a new ponytail and using a rough paper towel to pat myself dry. Even with the damage control I was sweaty, red faced and grimy. Not really the way I was hoping to look for the first face to face with my father in years, but there wasn't too much I could do about it in a service station bathroom.

My communications with Charlie had been limited over the years to phones calls on holidays and the occasional proof of life email. I know Charlie wanted more from me. For the first month after I'd left Forks he'd call every day, email sometimes twice a day, trying to get me to talk to him, asking me to please come home. But Forks wasn't my home, not really, which was something I don't think either of us had realized at the time.

Forks was a place I landed in transition. It's where I lived before going to college, where I stayed during summer breaks, where I ended up when I had no other place to go, but Forks wasn't truly my home. I hadn't actually found a place that felt like home, but I knew for sure that Forks wasn't it.

I climbed back into the truck and fired it up, the engine turning over with a roar while my thighs melted to the vinyl seats.

I don't think enough time had passed for me to be truly comfortable in Forks, or excited in any way to be back. I knew that I was going to be facing those probing looks, those hushed voices, those sympathetic glances. Gossip is like the life blood of small towns, especially if it's bloody and terrible, and I knew for sure that no one had forgotten. I knew that I was going to have to spend the next five days walking on egg shells, trying to be normal, trying to be some semblance of the Bella everyone remembered, whether there was anything left of that Bella or not.

But ready or not, I'd made a commitment. I promised to be present for Charlie and present I would be, even if I wasn't entirely thrilled with the prospect.

It took less than five minutes to drive from the Shell station to Charlie's house, but it felt like way less than that. Despite my resolve, despite my promise, I found myself desperate to back out of the drive way before I'd even come to a stop next to the cruiser. Charlie was prepared for that, though. He was out of the house and half way to the truck before I even put it in park.

"Bella!" he said, raising a hand to wave and smiling a very un-Charlie-like smile from under his bushy moustache. I returned his wave and forced a smile. Whatever my reservations, it was time to put my game face on.

"Hi Dad." I peeled myself from the seat and hopped down from the truck, meeting him in the drive. His arms twitched, his moustache twitched, and I could tell he wanted to hug, so I threw my arms around him in embrace before I had time to think it through. The heat of him engulfed me, raising my temperature at least twenty degrees, so I gave him squeeze and held him at arm's length, giving him a quick once over. He looked good. Better fed than when I'd last seen him, more jovial, less haunted, stronger. The smile that stretched my lips became genuine for an instant. My dad looked happy.

"You're looking good," I said, giving his arm a pat and stepping out of his personal space. "Sue must be doing something right to give you that kind of glow." His blush was instantaneous, turning him tomato red from his hairline all the way down to the collar of his tee. Despite my nerves, a laugh of pure delight bubbled out of me. I'd never seen my stoic father look so bashful and it was quite a sight to behold.

"Sue's a good woman," he all but grunted, shoving his hands into his jeans pocket and rocking back on his heels.

I tempered my smile, taking it down from a grin. "I'm sure she is. I can't wait to meet her."

I could feel Charlies eyes on me as I leaned into the truck to retrieve my duffel, examining, inspecting, comparing me to his memories. I knew I was different than the last time he'd seen me. I was older, looked healthier, and had finally developed some of those curves that marked me as a woman and not a girl. My time away had changed me, just as he had changed in time, and I couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at me. Did he see the woman that I had grown into? Or did he still see the girl that ran out of his house in the middle of the night scared, injured, desperate?

"So where is Sue?" I finally asked when it became clear Charlie wasn't going to to contribute more to the conversation. I hoisted my bag and settled the strap over my right shoulder, not missing Charlie's glimpse at the scar visible on the left. "Seems like I should be meeting the future Mrs. Swan right about now."

That smile was back on Charlie's face. The goofy one he'd sported on this way to the truck. "She'll be along after a while. She had to run to Port Angeles to check on the center pieces. She'll be back by dinner, though. We were planning on going to the diner if that's okay with you?"

The diner, of course, referred to the one sit down place to eat in Forks. The diner had been open for more years than I had been alive and would likely be standing long after I was gone. It was the place old men went for their morning coffee, kids went to hang out after school, and harried parents visited when they'd had it up to here and couldn't stand the thought of making dinner. It was a place to meet with friends, to share and hear town gossip, to see and be seen. Everyone who lived in or around Forks ended up in the diner at least once in a while. Which meant it was the only place in town guaranteed to be packed any night of the week.

Obviously the diner was the last place I wanted to be.

But these five days were about Charlie, about Sue, so I turned up the wattage of my smile just a bit. "Of course, the diner sounds great!" Charlie's searching look told me that I overdid it on the enthusiasm, so I dialed it back. Time to change the subject. "I hope you've got the a/c fired up. After the drive here I can't say I'm completely convinced that people don't melt." Charlie's laugh trailed me to the house.

The cool air I was met with on the threshold was divine.

The house was different than it had been when I'd been inside last, different than it had been pretty much my entire life. Gone was the shrine to my mother built by her own hands and maintained by the man who loved her every single day of her life. Gone were the worn out sofa, the brightly painted cabinets, and the rows upon rows of young Bella faces smiling from the mantel. In their place were things that made the house warm, homey. New yellow paint and plain wood cabinets in the kitchen; a newer sofa, not yet worn down to the shape of Charlie's body; Charlie's most recent photos of me, snapshots from my college days, as well as other pictures of people I didn't recognize, people I assumed were important to Sue.

Seemed like some people in Forks were capable of change after all.

"I know it's different," Charlie said, interrupting my inspection and closing the front door behind us. I noticed when he flipped the lock. "Sue thought it was about time for an update with her moving in and all. And I guess I kind of agreed. Haven't really done much to the house since you were a kid. I left your room the same, though, just in case you came back."

My eyes cut to him sharply before I redirected them, suddenly finding the ornate vase of silk flowers on the coffee table interesting.

It wasn't what he said that bothered me, it was the part he left unsaid, the part he was dying to say. He wanted me to come back, wanted me to give that stifling life in Forks another try. "Charlie . . . ."

"I know," he said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck and scrutinizing his shoe tops. "I know you can't come back, but know that you're welcome. If you change your mind you'll always have a place here." Even though the thought of being trapped in Forks made me nervous, that was about as close to saying I love you as Charlie got and we both knew it. I managed a smile.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." We stood together awkwardly for a moment, my eyes on the flowers, his eyes on the floor. He'd bared his heart to me in his Charlie way and I had nothing I was willing to bare in return. So I shifted my bag, worked up another smile, and managed to look his way. "If we're going to the diner tonight I'd better get a shower. Bathroom in the same place?"

He gave a laugh, awkward moment forgotten, and nodded up the stairs. "Yep, right where you left it."


	3. Chapter 3

I had never been particularly loquacious, nor had Charlie as far as I knew, and our silences, in the past, had been comfortable. Since both Charlie and I were people of few words, lulls in conversation had never felt strange, had never needed to be filled, had never driven me crazy – until the drive to the diner.

The silence in the car was awkward, charged, and I tried not to fidget too much as I stared out the passenger side window of the cruiser. I could tell Charlie wanted to talk to me, could nearly see the questions swirling around in his head every time I looked his way. But he resisted asking them, resisted commenting, choosing instead to keep his mouth closed and maintain his end of the silence. But the silence didn't stop the glances – those little flicks and darts of his eyes my way whenever he thought I wasn't looking. I wanted to reassure him that it was really me in the flesh, that I was really in his car, but breaking the silence seemed like a bad idea. So I put up with the glances as the cruiser ate up the distance between the house and the diner even though even though every shift of his gaze, every quirk in his eyebrow, made me nervous. I wasn't used to letting myself be in the spotlight, wasn't used to having to sit still while someone eyed me, and I had to breathe carefully and remind myself that it was just Charlie. Surely I could handle the attention if it was just Charlie.

Blending in and being overlooked was something I'd always been good at. It wasn't hard to keep quiet or look the same as everyone else if you really put your mind to it. When I was younger, I hadn't really had to try to disappear in the crowd. I didn't join any sports teams or any clubs at school. I had decent grades but they weren't the best or the worst in the class. And while I had friends, I didn't have the most friends or the popular friends or the ones with money. So it was easy for me to walk through the halls without being noticed, just another non-remarkable brunette.

All of that changed for me when I moved to Forks.

I was still the same Bella in Forks as I'd been in Phoenix. I was still quiet, responsible, hardworking. I still refused to join any sports teams or clubs. But all of the sudden in Forks I was special. I was someone to be looked at, someone to be noticed. And while I was uncomfortable with that attention at first, I grew into it after a while. I learned, gradually, how to be a little more outgoing. I learned, gradually, how to have those light, interesting conversations with friends and strangers complete with just the right amount of just the right amount of good humour and charm. I learned to be looked at, accepted being looked at, and in the end had probably liked it too. But then I'd grown up, gone to college, embraced the attention, and caught the attention of the wrong man. Since then, I'd made it my mission to blend.

As soon as Charlie parked I bolted, unbuckling my belt, throwing open the door, and flying out of the car like I was on fire. I slammed the door behind me and smoothed my hair, ignoring my shaking hands and the strange look Charlie shot me over the roof of the cruiser. "You okay?" he asked.

I shot him my best smile as we headed toward the diner. "Never better." I could tell he didn't believe me.

The diner was hopping when we walked in the door, busy as usual. I caught myself holding my breath as I scanned the room, looking for familiar faces in the crowd, trying to spot someone who might remember me from my time in Forks.

I recognized Sue from her pictures and spotted her right away in an empty booth in the middle of the hubbub. She was a thin woman, but soft and cozy, with rounded corners and worn in points. She wore a tshirt and jeans but still managed to look nice, her tee crisp and clean, her long, dark hair framing her pretty face. She saw us right after I saw her and beckoned us over with a wave. I let Charlie lead the way.

"Sue," he said, greeting her with a kiss on the lips then pressing himself close to the table so I was visible around him. "This is Bella." I gave her a nod and breathed a hi, expecting the same in return, but found myself stiffening in her hug before I realized what was happening.

"Bella, it's so good to meet you," she said, stepping out of my personal space and gracing me with a full on smile that wrinkled her eyes and lit up her entire face. "I've heard so much about you from Charlie, I almost feel like you're one of my own kids." I shoot Charlie a glance at that, picking up on his dreamy smile, but have my eyes back on Sue in a second.

"It's great to meet you too," I said as we settled in the booth, Charlie and Sue on one side, me alone on the other. I felt exposed on the bench seat, vulnerable, and could nearly feel my skin prickling from the gazes I was sure where coming our way. I pushed the feeling to the back of my mind, scooped up my menu, and tried to focus on making conversation. "How are Seth and Leah?"

I'd met Seth and Leah once, not long after their dad died when I was visiting my friend, Jacob Black. The Clearwater kids been quiet when I'd met them, kind of withdrawn, broody, but they had seemed like nice enough kids and were polite. It's likely I'd have gotten to know them more if Jake and I had kept hanging out, but it wasn't too long after that I was off to college and Jake when his own way.

"They're doing great. Seth just finished his second year at UC Berkeley and Leah is thinking about moving back to the area to teach. She's been teaching high school English near Seattle for the past few years but claims to be missing the reservation. In high school that girl couldn't wait to leave. She's only been out a few years and is now dying to come back. Go figure." Her laugh is full, genuine, and I look at her and Charlie over the top of my menu. He's not laughing, but he's got that dreamy smile on his face again. I squeeze out a smile of my own and duck back down behind my laminated menu. Looks like they've added applesauce as a side since I last visited.

"So when are they coming in for the wedding?" The question seemed simple enough, straight forward, but I don't miss the glance that Charlie and Sue share.

"They're actually already here. Seth is home for the summer and Leah flew in last night." Sue looks nervous for a moment, glancing at Charlie again, before giving me another smile. "They both wanted to come to dinner to see you, but Charlie and I thought it would be better if it were just the three of us this first time. We didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Hmm," I mumbled, gazing at them again over the top of my menu.

What she really meant is that they didn't want me to become overwhelmed, upset enough to split before the wedding. I wasn't sure whether to be insulted or understanding. After all, the last time I had left Forks had been in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. I got it, I really did. I totally had a track record. But that was then, when there was no reason to stay. When every night was full of nightmares, every day was filled with whispers, and one place seemed as good as the next. But now it was different. Charlie's wedding was important, to both him and to me, and I wasn't about to ruin it for him because I couldn't stand a few uncomfortable events. Hell, it only was five days. Even I could handle five days.

I watched Sue wring her hands and made a quick decision. I wasn't made of glass. I had grown up, was stronger than I had been, and didn't need to be coddled. They didn't need to wreck their special event worrying about poor little Bella.

I snapped my menu shut and folded my hands atop. "Listen," I said, leaning forward and lowering my voice, mindful of the wandering eyes and the curious ears around us. "I'm here, alright? I'm happy for both of you and I'm going to be here through the wedding no matter what. I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to worry or make special accommodations for me, okay? Just be happy and enjoy your day."

Sue reached out for me and I laid a warm hand over mine. "Of course we don't need to worry about you, Bella. You're a strong woman who has overcome some tough things and we know that. But as long as we can make things easier for you we will. We love you. That's what parents are supposed to do." Hearing Sue count herself as one of my parents startles me, and her warm brown eyes are instantly replaced by vacant blue ones in my mind. I jerked my hand from hers suddenly and pressed it over my racing heart. Sue looks surprised, hurt, and I force myself to act normally, pushing the image to the very far back of my mind, scooping up my menu and flipping it open.

"Still like the meatloaf here, Charlie?" My voice wasn't quite steady.

"Bella . . ." he said, glancing between me and Sue, moustache twitching at the loss of his blissed out smile. He wanted me to apologize, I could tell just by looking at him. And while he was probably right, while I probably did owe Sue an apology, I couldn't do it. Just the thought of opening my mouth to address what had just happened filled me with dread.

Instead, I cleared my throat. "I'm just going to step outside for a minute if you don't mind? I could use some air." I'm out of my seat before either of them can respond.

There was a bench outside of the diner, pressed close to the right side of the building, and I sunk down onto it with a sigh. Three minutes into dinner and I'd already freaked the fuck out.

No matter what I'd managed to convince myself about the prying eyes and ears of Forks, it was pretty clear that noisy townsfolk weren't the problem. Their stares burned into me, their perked ears made me itch, but you could find that anywhere, that wasn't unique to Forks. What was unique to Forks was the care, the familiarity. It was the hushed voices, the careful plans, the gentle touches that were intended to be comforting but only succeed in reminding me that I was weak, that I needed to be coddled, that I wasn't quite normal.

The thing was, though, I didn't need to be coddled. I had worked hard to be strong, had worked hard to stay strong, and dealt with the anxiety and emotions as they came. I didn't need sympathy and hugs to heal, to move on. All I needed was a little space.

I tilted my head forward, letting my hair form a curtain around my face and breathed deeply, trying to keep the memories and the feelings at bay.

It wasn't Sue's fault, of course. She couldn't have known how I would react to the idea that she wanted to be like a mother to me. Even I couldn't have predicted how I might have reacted. I wasn't stupid, of course, I knew very well that when Sue married Charlie she'd be my stepmom. But somehow the word "stepmother" didn't carry with it the emotion, the care that she was willing to provide me with, that she wanted to provide me with. Watching her look at me with concern and love in her eyes made something inside me ache and I definitely didn't like it.

But it was only five days. Five short days then I could get out, leave Forks for as long as I wanted. I was a fighter. I was strong. I could do it.

It felt like everyone was looking at me when I stepped back into the diner, beelining for our booth without taking in the crowd. Charlie and Sue sat right where I left them, Charlie looking at his menu as if he hadn't eaten at the diner ninety times before, Sue fidgeting with the straw in one of three water glasses that had appeared on the table in my absence. Both of them stared at me when I slid into my side of the booth.

"Feels good in here," I said, lifting my hair off my neck and fanning my face. "What's up with this heat wave?" Silence followed my question as both Charlie and Sue eyed me, the clatter in the diner continuing on around us. I counted the seconds in my head as they passed and I waited. One, two, three . . . .

"The weatherman said it must be global warming." Bless you, Sue. "I just hope that it's not this hot on our wedding day."

I let Sue carry the conversation after we placed our orders, doing my best to pay enough attention to "mmm" and smile at the appropriate places. Before I know it our food is in front of us and we all fall silent, shoveling the food in.

It was during this lull, right before the second bite into my burger, that I realized I was being watched. I didn't feel his gaze on me, didn't sense someone was looking at me with more than a casual glance. Instead, I turned my head looking for the ketchup and met his eyes across the room.

I could tell his eyes where light under his mop of rusty copper hair, either a shade of blue or green, and I was startled when I actually met his gaze. Starers typically avert their eyes when they realize a staree is onto them, but not him. He actually smiled and raised his hand in a wave.

I turned back to my plate in a hurry, dropping my burger in its space by the fries and fighting the desire to get up and leave immediately. His intense gaze, his confidence, sent my heart racing and my mind back to another man with a similar piercing gaze, a similar boldness.

He had been older than me by five years and was watching me from across the coffeehouse, his brilliant eyes gazing at me over a newspaper while I banged away at my laptop, trying to churn out a last minute research paper. He was there that first day whenever I looked up, eyes glued to my face, smiling at me. With the amount of time he must've spent looking my way I doubt that he managed to get through one article in the paper. I was flattered by his attention when I first saw him, and even more flattered when he stopped me one my way out the door to ask me to dinner. But I was young then, naive, and it never occurred to me that such an attractive man taking an interest in me would be a bad thing. My naivety didn't last long after that.

Sue brushed her fingertips against mine and my eyes shot from my plate, to her, and then to man with the copper coloured hair whose eyes were still on me. I fidgeted with the fork laid neatly at the side of my plate and fought the nausea.

"The burger not good?" Sue asked, leaving her hand stretched across the table even though our fingers were no longer touching.

I glanced again at the confused looking stranger before meeting Sue's eyes. "I'm just not real hungry, I guess."

Sue tried to follow my gaze across the room, but either didn't see the man staring me down or didn't mark him as a threat. Either way, I wasn't comforted. "That's okay. It's been so hot out I can hardly eat myself." I spared a look for her half eaten salad, but she didn't seem to notice. "They can box it up for you to take home. If you don't eat it later I'm sure your dad will."

"Sound good," I agreed, stirring my water with my straw, trying to stay present at the table. While Charlie and Sue eat and chat, I consider leaving the diner, maybe going to wait in the cruiser or to sit on the bench right outside where he his gaze can't reach me. But I strike down the idea almost as soon as it crossed my mind. Safety in numbers and all of that. So I sit and wait, fidgeting with my fork, with my straw, with the salt shaker while Charlie and Sue eat at a snail's pace, smiling at each other while they talk about the wedding, the weather, and nothing at all, shooting the occasional concerned glance my way.

By the time we'd paid, our leftovers were packaged, and Charlie and Sue gave each other kisses goodbye, the copper headed man was gone, but my nerves were so shot my hands were shaking, my fingers were cold, and I had to resist the urge to link a finger through Charlie's belt loop like I did when I was a kid. Still, I walk close behind him on our way out of the diner, no more than a step behind him the entire way to the care.

Because when you're just a little scared and forced to be in a place where people care, there's no place better to be than near you protective father carrying a firearm.


End file.
